Smile
by James Austin Valiant
Summary: Francesco hasn't had a good reason to smile, until today.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood. Trinity Blood is based on a series of novels by Sunao Yoshida which deal with a Roman Catholic Church in the distant, apocalyptic future. It deals with a Church that allows children and relations between the clergy, and possibly marriage. Turn away if you have any objections to this! Corruption still runs rampant though, yay! This particular fanfic also draws inspiration from the Siri Thesis, which is an interesting theory that you should definitely read up on. Take care, and read on!_

**Smile  
****By: James Austin Valiant**

Happy was not usually a word people used to describe Francesco de Medici. He disdained most activities that made most people happy - hobbies, friends, dating. Francesco preferred his books, his Church. The unending pillars of theology and tradition that had remained unchanged throughout the centuries provided the cardinal with purpose and comfort. Being immersed in dogma was the closest Cardinal de Medici allowed himself to get to happiness.

Today would be an exception.

His father, the Pope, had just passed away. The Conclave had convened immediately following the conclusion of the memorial Mass of Pope Gregorio XXX. The cardinals had been meeting for three days, praying for the intervention of the Holy Spirit to help them choose the next Bishop of Rome.

Francesco had sat in each session of the conclave, his voice strong and powerful. He waited for a section of the senior, conservative cardinals to nominate him, to promote him as the premier candidate to become the next leader of the church. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, knowing the cardinals would do an even better job of promoting him than he ever could.

There was resistance from the liberal and moderate members of the College, who each nominated their own candidates. The liberals preferred the Dean of the College of Cardinals, Albino della Rovere. Della Rovere's family had influenced Vatican politics since the early Renaissance, and it was speculated several of his great grand uncles had been Popes.

The moderate members liked the Archbishop of Milan, Saverio Vespera. Saverio, however, had not been elevated to the rank of cardinal, and was therefore, the longshot choice. Francesco was pleased about this; Saverio was not only a holy man, but was more personable and friendly than himself.

Francesco knew he had the vote. It was whispered to him in the hallways, shown to him in secret smiles and looks. In a day's time, Francesco would be the Pope. He had yet to decided on a formal name...maybe he would go with John or Benedict. But then, sticking with his baptismal name wouldn't be a bad choice. Pope Francesco the First had a silvery, unostentatious sound about it.

He clenched the piece of jewelry in his pocket. The Ring of the Fisherman was the symbol that solidified the papacy - a new one was cast for new Popes, and was destroyed when they passed. It was called the Ring of Fisherman for the fact that the first Pope, Peter, had been a fisherman before being made leader of the Church by Christ. Francesco hadn't bothered waiting for his father to pass; he was so certain of his election, he'd had a Ring of the Fisherman cast for two years following his elevation to the cardinalate.

And now, it was time. Time for his ways to bring an invigorated era of devotion and dedication to the Church...rather, his Church! The Roman Catholic Church, under the papal supremacy of Pope Francesco the First.

An unfamiliar feeling tugged at the muscles of the Cardinal's mouth. He did his best to fight it, smoothing out his soon-to-be obsolete red robes, adjusting the large crucifix that hung around his neck. Amazing, this feeling that welled inside him. Joy, excitement, and most of all, happiness; they were the feelings Francesco had buried for years and years. Perhaps it was time to let them out…

"Cardinal?"

He turned quickly. There was no one there, but a note dropped on the floor. It lay there, ominous and foreboding. The young cardinal approached it, kneeling down to pick it up cautiously. Within the note, scrawled

"No...no...it can't be…" Francesco had taken great measures to conceal this information. Who would dare have the gall to reveal this information, to ruin him and the future of his Church. It was madness, and whoever would do it must be a conniving, indecent excuse for a person.

The illegitimacy of Francesco's birth had been a well hidden secret. He had destroyed documents, threatened and silenced people who held that knowledge. His father had hid well enough, going so far as to bribe the mother of his other children to raise Francesco as her own. The question remained: who would threaten Francesco's rightful reign?

"Francesco?" It was the voice of the Dean of the College. Della Rovere's voice rang with an unmistakable bitterness, but he had known the outcome for sometime. "The Cardinals are most certainly voting for you. Will you be accepting?"

"I cannot." He shot Della Rovere a scathing look, causing the Dean to leave.

The restrained feelings of happiness squirmed in his stomach, churning and flipping. The job became anger, the excitement became rage. Anger crept over his face, his eyes twitching and lips twisting. How comforting his old feelings were. He longed for vengeance, to vent the feelings of frustration and being blackmailed out of his one true vocation.

The Ring of the Fisherman, the one he had carefully protected all these years, was now nothing more than a reminder of his failure. He threw the piece of jewelry, as well as the blackmail note, to the fireplace of the small room. The fire would swallow them, erase what had happened there today. But Francesco de Medici would not forget. He would find his vengeance.


End file.
